


You've Got Captain Canary (Extended Edition)

by crazygirlne



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Movie AU, You've Got Mail AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 10:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne
Summary: Two people email back and forth, not realizing they're business rivals, and eventually fall in love.ORCaptain Canary in a You've Got Mail AU





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You've Got Captain Canary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308858) by [crazygirlne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazygirlne/pseuds/crazygirlne). 



> For the @ficcingcaptaincanary Movie AU prompt, I asked for input, and people (Claudiarain insists on some credit, here) requested I add scenes to You’ve Got Captain Canary. Since the scenes work best with the online correspondence fitted in chronologically, I’m posting this as a new story; it just wouldn’t make as much sense as subsequent chapters.
> 
> There are six new scenes (about 5k words worth of new content), and again, you shouldn’t really need to know the movie to enjoy it, but it helps.
> 
> For people who didn’t read the original, what follows is a mix of emails, instant messages, and traditional scenes, adapting Captain Canary into the You’ve Got Mail universe. Shifts between text and actual scenes are clear. No need/reason to read the original first.

Hello again, WhiteCanary.

Central City is odd this time of year, don't you think? There's this one guy around who always seems to be running everywhere, but he's always saying he's late. Then there's another who likes to explain complex scientific ideas while I wait for my coffee.

Every. Day.

It's strange, knowing you live here in Central City but not knowing whether we frequent any of the same places.

Short email today, I know, but I promised my business partner I'd come in early.

Look forward to hearing from you, Canary.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42,

You know, I kinda like pretending we're actually talking. The emails are just picking up the conversation where we left off, right?

I think I've seen that first guy you were talking about. He wears a lot of red, right? Maybe we go to the same place. I've got one person who talks geek at me all the time, but she's a friend and I adore her.

Business partner, huh? Think we're ready to talk about what we do? Or you wanna keep up the anon thing a bit longer?

Catch you later!

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

I think we should stick to the semi-anonymous emails for now. I know they’re a little outdated, but they’re better than the chatroom we met in, right? I’m not quite ready to take the next step, so to speak. Mostly because you’re right; it does feel like we’re actually talking. I really don’t want to ruin that.

I could use that conversation today. I do a lot of work with my dad, and I had to see him in person today. Let’s just say there are plenty of things I’d rather do than see my father.

Like get a root canal.

CapCold42

***

Hey CapCold42,

Well, what do you want to talk about? I’m here, and I don’t have to go anywhere for a little bit. I’ve got a lot going on at work, but home life is kinda dull at the moment.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

Tell me about it. Do you have anyone there with you? (See what I did there? If I asked if you live alone, it’d be breaking our rules AND be potentially creepy.)

CapCold42

***

Dear CapCold42,

Okay, I’ll write as much as I can. I live alone right now. My girlfriend (and yes, I mean girlfriend, not a girl who’s a friend) moved out a while back. We were… We were in love, but we didn’t bring out the best in each other. No hard feelings there or anything, but some regret, and since it wasn’t like it was a brand new relationship, even though it’s been a while, I’m still not used to the empty apartment.

I moved here to Central City after we split, so I guess it’s not even like I was ever used to sharing this one. It’s just… I don’t know. I think to explain, I’d need to get into some of those specifics you still wanna avoid, but basically just, I’m lonely at home.

Talking to you helps.

Also making plans with my coworkers. Gotta run, but look forward to hearing back.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

I know what you mean. No relationship here or anything, but my partner (and I don’t mean that in the romantic sense) and I were roommates until recently. We had a bit of a falling out. Things are better now, and we still work together, but nights are quiet.

Not that quiet’s a bad thing. I like the quiet, and I’ve always had an appreciation for my own personal space. It’s just that sometimes, it’s nice to be able to share your thoughts with someone who cares.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42--

I care.

\--WhiteCanary

***

CapCold42

Okay, sorry, that message was too short, but I was out at the bar (with that geeky friend/coworker I talked to you about, and her fiance, who’s sort of an ex of mine… long story) and I got a chance to read your email, and I just…

I didn’t want to not respond. Cause I do care. And it’s weird, and probably stupid, and I don’t know you, but I feel like I do know you, you know?

Ugh, I can’t get this right.

It doesn’t matter that we’ve only been talking for a few months or that we don’t know each other’s names. You’re a friend, and I love talking to you, and what you say matters.

WhiteCanary

***

My WhiteCanary,

That was a nice email to wake up to.

For what it’s worth, I consider you a friend, too. I think I talk to you more than anyone else. Sad, right?

Today, I’ve got this party I have to go to. I know I’m the one keeping things more anonymous, but I wish you could be there.

Your CapCold42

* * *

 

Sara Lance and Felicity Smoak walk into the party together, fashionably late. The apartment where it’s being held is packed, and it looks like basically everybody is there, save for Oliver Queen.

“My fiancé's even later than we are,” Felicity grumbles before they get pulled into some small talk, and Sara can’t quite help a grin. She’s been so stressed at work, and it’s great to get out just to have some fun.

The party’s maybe a little stuffy for her taste, but these are the people whose circles she moves in, so she needs to put in her time and be visible and pleasant.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t just fun. Still, it’s the closest thing to relaxation that she’s had in a while. Plus, there’s free beer and wine.

When Oliver finally shows up, Sara makes her way over to the drinks. She asks for a beer, and she turns as a vaguely familiar voice asks for the same.

“Leonard?” she says, seeing that it’s a man who came into her store recently. He looks at her rather like she’s interrupting him. “Do you remember me from the shop?”

“Sara,” he says, nodding. His voice almost caresses her name, completely at odds with the fact that he’s barely looking at her, searching the room for something instead. With a tight smile, he walks off, and she’s left staring after him, confused.

She remembers him not because she has so few customers lately (though, okay, that contributes) but because they fell quickly into an easy conversation while he paid, and there was something about his eyes and the way he held himself that had caught her attention. Clearly, he remembers her, too, but she has no clue why he’s acting so distant.

Well, other than the fact that they’re basically strangers.

Sara’s still thinking about how odd the exchange was when she gets back to Felicity and Oliver.

“I can’t believe that you were speaking to Leonard Snart,” Oliver says, and everything clicks into place.

Leonard. He’d paid in cash, so she’d had no reason to see or ask for his last name, but of course it was Leonard Snart. That’s why he’d seemed familiar even that first time; they’d talked on the phone before (or at least, he’d talked; she’d gotten flustered and yelled before hanging up), but they’d never met in person.

Except, apparently, they _have_ met in person. She’s met the person who’s trying to put her out of business, and she’d actually _liked_ him.

Sara reins in her immediate anger at the manipulation. She can’t cause a total scene here, not in front of all these people.

She can, though, let him know she’s caught onto his bullshit.

Sara confronts him at the buffet. “Snart. Your last name is Snart.”

He looks at her like she’s being dense, and she reminds herself not to make a scene. “Would you like me to spell it for you?”

“I can’t believe you,” she hisses, watching as he casually continues putting food on his plate. “You were spying on me, weren’t you?”

“Why would I spy on you?” he asks as if it’s ridiculous.

“Because I am your competition,” she retorts, “which you know perfectly well, or you wouldn’t’ve put up that sign that says, ‘Just around the corner.’”

He takes a breath, like she’s the one who’s being unreasonable and he needs the strength to deal with her. “The entrance to our store is around the corner from that sign. It’s not the name of our store. I would’ve thought you were smart enough, Lance, to know the difference.” When she’s silent, staring at him in disbelief, he continues. “Besides, it’s not like you own the phrase just because your store is named The Shop Around the Corner.”

She tries to gather her thoughts, but she’s just so _angry_ that she can’t even decide where to start, not until he starts absently transferring some of the paper-thin, vegetable flowers from the veggie tray onto his plate.

“What are you doing?” she demands. “You can’t take those. They’re supposed to be garnish.”

He eyes her, more than a hint of challenge in his eyes (which she refuses to acknowledge could be responsible for some of the heat suddenly coiling inside her; it’s anger, that’s all, not attraction), and then he deliberately plucks several more of the decorations from the tray.

Sara storms around the table so she’s standing directly in front of him, and he stops, shifting his attention from the food to her, blue eyes far too intense.

“Look, I needed something from your store,” he says, voice low but heated. “Mine isn’t open yet, or I wouldn’t have bothered. It is a _charming_ little store, though,” he drawls. “You probably make, what $350,000 a year in sales?”

“How did you know that?” she asks, with fleeting images of him finding a way to hack into her financial information.

“We’re in the same business, Sara.” He caresses her name again, and she resists the overwhelming urge to stomp her foot in response.

She laughs instead, the sound devoid of any humor. “We are _not_ in the same business.” She moves away, putting the table between them, hoping to shake whatever impulse is telling her they could solve this more enjoyably without words.

“Oh, I see,” he says, following her but without coming too close, “so because I deal with mass production, my business doesn’t count.”

“Exactly,” she snaps.

“Fine then,” he says, a spark in his eyes like he’s actually enjoying this, “we’re not in the same business. I spied on you because I was afraid that your store, a shop whose budget is a drop in the bucket compared to mine, was going to put me out of business. I was terrified, shaking in my boots.”

He’s leaning in when he finishes speaking, his plate of edible flowers held between them, and when Sara opens her mouth to make some sort of comeback, she’s mortified to hear a squeak of outrage instead.

Leonard, of course, smirks at this, straightening just enough that she can breathe. “What?”

Sara’s trying to decide how to answer. She’s just still so angry with him, but there’s something about his nearness that isn’t half as unappealing as it should be, but he’s just dissed her store, _Laurel’s_ store, and she wants to tear him a new one.

“Hi,” Felicity interrupts, appearing from nowhere to stand by Sara’s side. Her usually cheerful voice is steely. She holds out a hand. “Felicity Smoak.”

Leonard doesn’t break eye contact with Sara until after he’s responded with his name, and Sara feels a strange mix of relief and disappointment as the tension suddenly eases.

“I know who you are,” Felicity says in a clipped voice. “You’ve been making my employer-slash-best friend’s life hell lately, and we don’t appreciate it. How do you even sleep at night?”

His eyes move back to Sara’s. “I tell myself fantastic bedtime stories.”

His tone is intimate, laced with innuendo despite the relatively innocent words, and Sara feels her face flush. He’s called away, then, taking his sweet time in breaking eye contact before he turns and leaves, and Felicity turns to face her.

“What a jerk,” she mumbles.

Sara can only nod.

* * *

 

CapCold42--

Omg, yesterday was the day from hell. I’m sorry I didn’t respond yesterday. I hope your party went better than mine. I met this asshole, and just… Stuff never comes out like I want it to, especially around him, and it sucks.

Anyway. I guess the day was fine otherwise. I mean, my days usually are, except when they suck. That’s super specific, huh? But I like the people I work with. I like the people who come with them. Like coworker’s fiance’s friend (whew, this would be easier with names), he came in today, and I was just reminded of how cool people can be, you know?

It helped after the shit that was last night.

WhiteCanary

***

Dear WhiteCanary,

I’m sorry you had to deal with that.

The party was okay. There’s this person I… spar with, occasionally, and typically I enjoy it, a lot, but they seemed genuinely upset last night, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t have normal interactions with most people. The people who know me get that. They know not to expect polish. Acquaintances, though, especially this one, they just get treated to my rough edges.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42--

I can’t believe that. I mean, you’ve always seemed great to me. Then again, I’m kinda like that, too. I flirt, or I push people away, and only that circle of friends really gets me.

And you.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary:

I know I’ve been the one pushing the anonymity, but after the past couple days…

Do you think we should meet?

At a coffee shop or a busy park or something, obviously. I need to make sure I’m safe in case you’re an assassin or something trying to lure me out ;)

CapCold42

***

CapCold42,

I hate saying this, but you were right. I’m scared to fuck this up, too, and since you pointed it out, I’ve been thinking the anon thing is a good idea, so…

Can we keep it this way for now? Please?

WhiteCanary

PS: Is there a reason you’re worried about assassins?

***

WhiteCanary,

Well, I’m secretly a criminal mastermind, and I keep expecting the government to decide they’re done and send someone after me.

Or I’ve just been watching too many spy movies, and that was the first thing that came to mind. One of the two.

We will stay like we are until we’re both comfortable with changing it.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42,

Sorry I haven’t written in a few days. It’s just, with Christmas coming up…

I have a sister. I refuse to say _had_. I have a sister, she’s just not here anymore.

And it’s the first Christmas since she died.

The store I own, it was hers. Mom isn’t really around, and Dad’s great, but it was pretty obvious right away who was gonna take over the store after she died. So I’m here, and I’m so grateful for my friends, but I miss my family. I miss my sister. I miss being blissfully unaware of what can happen to people.

I know that’s a lot to dump on you, especially around the holidays, but I felt like I needed to explain. Plus, I kinda just wanted to let you know.

Sincerely,

Your downer of an assassin

***

WhiteCanary,

Don’t worry about it if we don’t talk every day. I’m still here.

I’m sorry about your sister. There’s not a way to put that into words, really. I have a sister, and if I lost her…

I’m guessing you moved here because your sister died, if you’re relatively new and said you took over for her. If I’m right, you came to a new city, alone and grieving, and you’ve made a place for yourself. You have a business and friends, and more strength than most.

I admire you.

My mom’s been out of the picture for a long time, and you already know I don’t get along with my father.

I’ll tell you more about that later, when you’re not already grieving, but long story short, my sister’s the only family I’ve got. It makes you appreciate people when you don’t have many.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42--

How was your Christmas?

Mine was way better than I expected. My friends kept me busy, and Dad came over from Starling City, and everything just felt really normal.

Of course, it went to shit afterward, after everyone went back to their lives. I need advice, and everyone’s busy.

\--WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

Christmas was uneventful. My partner and I went to a bar. Sister joined for a while. Better Christmas than some I’ve had.

What sort of advice do you need?

CapCold42

***

_CapCold42 wants to chat!_

_WhiteCanary has accepted your request!_

WhiteCanary: I almost didn’t click okay, but this is actually kinda a great idea.

CapCold42: Figured it’d be easier to give you advice this way, if you’d like it.

CapCold42: I’m usually good with advice. How can I help?

WhiteCanary: I’m not sure you can, not without specifics.

CapCold42: ...Is it about your love life?

WhiteCanary: What in our emails makes you ask first if that’s what’s the problem? It’s not something with a man or woman, not that way. It’s my shop. My sister’s business. It’s not doing so great.

CapCold42: What kind of shop?

WhiteCanary: Nope. Too specific.

CapCold42: Alright. Well, without specifics, all I can really say is fight. Fight for your business. Fight for yourself. Do whatever you have to in order to keep it afloat. If competition is a problem, take them out. Survival of the fittest, you or them.

WhiteCanary: Survival of the fittest. Thanks.

CapCold42: Don’t mention it.

***

CapCold42,

I tried to fight, but it’s not enough. I’ve been thinking about it, and…

Do you still want to meet?

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

When? Where?

Excited,

CapCold42

***

CapCold42--

Jitters? 5 tomorrow evening? I’ll have… I was gonna borrow one of my friend’s textbooks, but people study there. I’ll bring a little hourglass. That should be unique, so you can spot me.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

I’ll see you tomorrow.

CapCold42

* * *

 

“Can you see her?” Leonard feels ridiculous. Of course he couldn’t just show up at the coffee shop and meet his canary; he had to drag Mick along to make sure he wasn’t making a mistake before he committed.

“There’s a chick who’s pretty hot,” Mick answers, “but no hourglass.”

“Mick…”

“Fine, gimme a minute.” Mick peers through the window. “Okay, I see an hourglass.”

“And?” Leonard prompts. “Does she look…” Normal? Like someone trying to trick him? He can’t believe her anything but genuine after how long they’ve been corresponding, but still…

“Hold on,” Mick says, impatient. “There’s someone in the way, and I can’t— Oh.”

“What?”

“You know that blonde you’ve been fighting with?”

“Sara Lance?” Leonard scowls at the thought of her. It’s not that he hates her like she does him; she’s just gotten under his skin since the first time they met, and he loathes feeling out of control. “What about her?”

“You think she’s hot, right?” Mick’s still watching the woman in the coffee shop.

Leonard nods impatiently. “I’d have to be blind not to, but what’s Sara got to do with anything?”

“Your mystery woman _is_ Sara, boss.”

Leonard is nearly certain Mick is messing with him. He moves his partner out of the way so he can see, and he feels a sinking sensation.

WhiteCanary is Sara Lance. The woman who’s driven him insane and stimulated him in ways he hasn’t felt in years is also the woman who’s his rock and one of his best friends.

“Shit,” Leonard murmurs, staring. Sara’s back is to him, but she looks up every time the door opens, clearly anticipating his arrival. He has trouble taking his gaze off her, but he does step back some from the window so he’s less likely to be spotted if she looks his way.

“What are you gonna do?” Mick asks.

“Nothing,” Leonard answers after a moment of quiet.

“You’re just gonna let her wait there?”

“Yes.” Leonard turns away and sees Mick watching him, eyebrows raised. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

“That’s cold.”

Leonard clenches his jaw. If Mick is judging him for this, it’s probably even more messed up than it feels. “We’re rivals, Mick. She hates me.” Sara Lance _hates_ Leonard Snart. He’s pretty sure it’s written in the rulebook or something. It’s an immutable fact. “My going in there would only hurt us both.” Mick’s still looking at him like he’s an asshole. “What?”

Mick shrugs. “It’s just, you’ve been half in love with her for months. Didn’t expect you to stand her up.”

“Go home, Mick,” Leonard says, ignoring his partner’s words. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mick leaves, and Leonard gets about a block away from the coffee shop before he stops, sinking into an empty bench on the sidewalk.

He’s making the right call. He’s sure he is. It’s not about her, not beyond the fact that he’s pretty sure she’d rather throw a hot coffee in his face than share one with him. Really, Sara’s everything he’s looking for, in a friend, relationship, whatever gray area they’re in online. She’s smart, funny, interesting, challenging, and hot as hell.

But they’re rivals.

As much as he tries to keep things professional, their conversations always end up going sideways. He pushes her buttons, and she pushes his, and he finds it absolutely invigorating and infuriating all at once. They’d never work as anything but antagonistic, and joining her in Jitters will only ruin everything.

His phone buzzes, and he looks down to see a message from her.

_WhiteCanary: Everything okay?_

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He needs to cut ties with her before they get even more attached. He should go home, delete her from his contacts, block her email, and never think about her again. That would be for the best.

But he doesn’t move. He can’t bring himself to get off the hard bench, and he’s still there when his phone notifies him of another message thirty minutes later.

_WhiteCanary: We were meeting at Jitters, right? Like an hour ago?_

He stands, ready to leave, but his feet carry him toward her rather than away. He’s just going to see whether she’s still there, he tells himself, pretending the message hasn’t already given him that answer.

Leonard sees her inside, still sitting alone, the hourglass easy to see. Her body language has changed, though. She’s no longer excited. She’s still looking up when the door opens, but it’s like she’s already decided he isn’t going to show, and she’s disappointed.

He pushes open the door, not letting himself think about what he’s doing. If he thinks about it, he’ll leave, and for whatever reason, he can’t bring himself to leave her here, alone, any longer.

Sara meets his eyes when he enters, her expression immediately twisting into a scowl. He approaches her anyway.

“Sara Lance, what a coincidence,” he says smoothly. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Yes, I mind,” she says. “I’m expecting someone.”

He reaches for the hourglass, turning it so the sand starts trickling through, and she snatches it away from him.

“Would you please leave?” she says.

He sits down, ignoring how his body responds to her flaring temper.

“How about I leave when your friend shows up?” he says.

This isn’t normally his thing, pushing boundaries this way. If he’s not wanted, he doesn’t fight for approval, but there’s something about Sara that makes him crave it. Of course, he also thrives on that spark of frustration in her eyes.

It’s possible he has more issues than he was aware of.

“How about you leave now so I don’t have to listen to you?”

“You know, I bet you’d be surprised if you actually got to know me.” He can’t help it. As much as she’s upset with him in this moment, he knows a part of her enjoys talking with him. It’s rare that so much as a day passes without some form of communication.

Sara narrows her eyes. “If I got to know you, it would only confirm what I already know: you’re a crook who’ll do anything for a bottom line.”

It hurts more than he expects it to. He focuses on her surprised expression rather than his own feelings.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Usually when I get angry,” she says, almost excited, “I can’t think of anything to say. And finally, when provoked by an asshole, I responded how I wanted to.”

“What’s with the hourglass?” he asks, changing the subject. He’s fascinated when she actually blushes. “Are you meeting a blind date, by any chance?”

She glares, hint of pink still in her cheeks. “Leave.”

He stands, holding up his hands like he’s surrendering, then pulls up a stool at the nearest table, only putting about another foot between them. Her stare is interrupted when the door opens and she looks toward it, fleeting hope chased away by more disappointment.

“Not who you were waiting for?” he asks. “Do you plan to be mean to your date, as well?”

“No, I won’t, because the man I’m meeting tonight isn’t an asshole.” Her attention is finally solidly on him for the first time that night, blue eyes bright. “The man I’m meeting here tonight actually listens to me. He’s kind, and he’s funny, and he’s brilliant, and—”

“And he’s not here.” Leonard isn’t sure why he interrupts. He thinks maybe he can’t take the thought that when she finds out who CapCold42 really is, she’ll be hurt, and even more disappointed than she is right now.

“If he’s not here,” she says heatedly, “he has a reason for it. He doesn’t have it in him to be cruel or careless when it comes to the people he gives a shit about. He’s nothing like _you._ You’re nothing but a suit, Leonard. You mean nothing, and at this rate, you never will.”

Leonard swallows. “That’s my cue to leave.” He stands. “Good night.”

He leaves, letting the cool air distract him from the pain of hearing her so certain that he means nothing to her or anyone else. His phone buzzes before he’s made it more than a few yards down the sidewalk.

_WhiteCanary: I can’t stay here any longer. I hope you’re okay._

Sara is so upset, so angry, and still, her only sentiments are that she hopes he’s okay.

He is the world’s biggest asshole, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t think it can _be_ fixed, at least not tonight.

* * *

 

CapCold42--

Everyone teased me about meeting up with you, but I ignored them. I was ready to meet you. I even let my friend pick out my clothes.

Felt like an idiot when you never showed up.

Someone else showed up, though. There’s this guy, and he’s pretty much responsible for all the trouble I’ve been having with my business. And like…. Ugh. I think I finally got through to him, but it sucked. I felt like a shitty person.

I doubt it’ll stick. He’s able to be all cold and calculating, keeps telling me it’s not personal, so he’ll be able to forget what I said, I know he will.

But I’m not sure I can.

Anyway, I’m sure you have a good reason for not coming, and again, I hope you’re okay. I just…

It was a bad night, and you were the one I wanted to tell. I hope that’s still okay.

\--WhiteCanary

***

My Assassin,

I can’t tell you what happened last night, but I can beg forgiveness. I should have been there. You expected a friend, and instead, you were met by someone you shouldn’t have had to deal with.

I bet you looked fantastic, for the record. I know it.

Don’t feel bad about what you said. I know you; whatever you told him, he deserved it.

The fault is his, mine, not yours.

I hope to explain some day. For now, though, I’m still here. I’m still your friend, if you’ll have me.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42,

It’s been a while. Things have been rough.

My store is closing. I lost the fight, and it feels like my sister is dying again.

Way too soon, it’s going to be a memory, just like she is.

I don’t know what to do. It’s not something that can be fixed.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to make it better, as much as I’d like to. Like you said, it can’t be fixed, not anymore.

But I’m here.

CapCold42

* * *

 

Leonard walks into the elevator, sighing when he’s joined by not just one other person, but three other people. It’s been a long day, and he just wants to get up to his apartment and sit down with the email that’s probably waiting from Sara. They’ve been talking again, and she’s been in pain since her store went under.

She’s in pain, and he’s the one who caused it, and he can’t actually say he’s been handling it well.

He ignores the awkward chit chat as they start upward, and he’s shaken, literally, when the elevator comes to an abrupt stop.

It doesn’t start again. They press the emergency button, let the person who comes over the speaker know what’s going on, and then there’s nothing to do but wait.

They each take a corner, and it’s not until they’re seated that Leonard really lets himself look at the people trapped with him.

There’s the guy who wears red a lot, who seems deep in thought. There’s the woman who lives across from Leonard (Kendra, he thinks her name is), who’s digging through her purse as if it’s the best distraction she can find. There’s a kid he’s seen around who’s always covered in engine grease.

The kid speaks first after an extended, uncomfortable silence. “If we ever get out of here, I’m gonna call my mama. I don’t talk to her enough, and I need to fix that.”

“If I ever get out of here,” says the guy in red after a few seconds, “I’m telling Iris I love her. I have for years, and she should know,” he adds simply.

He misses what Kendra says, because it’s like everything clicks into place.

Leonard loves Sara. There’s absolutely zero doubt in his mind that if he could do anything right now other than be stuck in an elevator, he’d choose to be with her. It doesn’t even matter to him _how_ he’s with her, though he has plenty of ideas that keep him up at night.

He just needs to be with her.

“If I ever get out of here,” he starts quietly. He’s interrupted when the elevator groans back into motion.

* * *

 

WhiteCanary,

Sometimes, I feel like I’m on TV. Today I got stuck in an elevator.

Who does that? I didn’t think that happened in real life.

I got stuck with that man I think I mentioned months ago, the one who’s always late and wears red. He was talking about how much he loves this girl and how he couldn’t wait to get out, get unstuck so he could finally tell her.

And I realized I don’t have anyone like that in my real life. The person I wanted to talk to was you.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42-

Sry. Miss you. Sick. Proscrition cold meds fun, tho.

\----WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

I hope you feel better soon.

CapCold42

* * *

 

Sara’s surprised when she hears the buzzer for her apartment. She isn’t expecting anyone. She’s been hibernating, basically, as she attempts to get rid of a cold that just won’t let her go.

She’s even more surprised when it’s Leonard Snart at the other end.

She goes off on a rant, barely even sure what she’s saying, then jumps as there’s a knock at her door.

“Shit,” she mutters, looking down to make sure she’s remembered to put on clothing, then opening the door.

Leonard Snart is standing in front of her holding flowers, and for a moment, she can’t quite process the visual. Then her foggy brain catches up to the caring look in his eyes, and she decides she’s imagining things.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I heard you were sick,” he answers (and God, she’d forgotten what his voice could do to her). “I was concerned.”

She shakes her head. She’s definitely imagining things. She lets him inside absently, still trying to figure out what’s going on. She wishes for a moment that she hadn’t taken the cold meds she’d been prescribed, because then, surely, she’d be having less trouble making sense of things.

“So you came with flowers?” she manages finally. “You didn’t come here to gloat?”

“No, I wouldn’t think of—”

“Because I have plans,” she assures him. She squints. He’s looking at her like she’s adorable or admirable or… something else with an A maybe. “Goodbye,” she says, not at all sure what they were discussing, but fairly certain he should leave before she does something stupid like tell him how hot he is.

“I brought you flowers,” he says, handing them to her. She takes them automatically, looking down at them.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. When she continues standing there, staring, he takes them back and heads to the kitchen. She watches bemusedly as he finds a vase, filling it with water and putting the flowers in it.

Daisies, she finally notices. She loves daisies. They’re such a friendly flower.

He sets the vase on the counter, and she picks it back up without really thinking about it, holding it to her chest, glad he didn’t overfill it.

“Can I make you anything?” he asks.

She nods, feeling a bit like she’s in a dream. “Tea?”

With little instruction, he finds her supplies and makes her a cup of tea. When she decides to drink it in her room but can’t figure out how to carry both the teacup and the vase, he follows her, setting the drink by her bed as she gets situated, the vase eventually resting within reach next to the cup.

“My head is fuzzy,” she murmurs, closing her eyes and resting her head against the headboard. She looks at him. She’s warm under the covers, and he looks warm, too. Or maybe he looks cold? Either way, she wants to ask him to join her, but she’s able to hold onto just enough of her coherence to avoid extending the offer.

“Why did you stop by?” she asks instead. “I forget.”

“I wanted to be your friend.” Leonard’s voice is so sincere that there’s no way she can play it off as a joke, not even in her impaired state.

“Oh.” It’s all she can manage, and judging by how impossible it is for her to look away from him, that’s probably a good thing.

“Have you tried to meet up with the man from Jitters again?” he asks, and she immediately feels herself shift from entranced to defensive. “I think you should.”

She starts to retort angrily. “I hardly think you’re capable of—”

She comes to an abrupt halt as his fingers rest gently on her lips. She hadn’t realized they were so close, and she’s pretty sure this is the first time they’ve touched.

It’s electrifying, even through the haze of cold and medication, and it helps clear her head.

So she’s able to hear every bit of emotion in his usually emotionless voice as he tells her, “I know I bring out the worst in you. Let me help you avoid saying something that’s just going to make you feel shitty later.”

She stares until she remembers to nod, and he removes his fingers (but she can still feel them).

“I hope you feel better soon,” he says, backing away.

“Thank you for the daisies,” she responds, coherently, she thinks, then watches him leave.

She has no clue how much of the exchange was in her mind.

Okay, that’s a lie. She’s pretty sure she didn’t imagine any of it. She can still feel his touch, and her imagination isn’t _that_ great.

But what other explanation is there for the fact that Leonard Snart was just taking care of her when she was sick, and that there seemed to be a real connection between the two of them, and that he genuinely seemed to care?

Why would Leonard want to be her friend? Why does she think that, maybe, he’d be a good one?

* * *

 

CapCold42,

I do feel better now. That took longer than usual. Had the weirdest thing happen while I was sick, though.

That jerk, he found out I wasn’t feeling well and came and took care of me. I wouldn’t have even let him in if I was thinking straight, but he was there and he looked like he actually cared and I guess my friend sent him (she’s working with him now), so…

I let him in. And he wasn’t a jerk. And now I’m more confused than I’ve ever been.

WhiteCanary

***

CapCold42: Did he say why he came over?

WhiteCanary: He said he wanted to be my friend. How lame is that? Why do I want to agree?

CapCold42: As long as you’re sure he’s not a crook or a killer, is there any harm?

WhiteCanary: He did steal my business. But I mean… I guess not.

* * *

 

It's harder not to either lie to her or let her know who he is once they start spending time together more often.   
  
It starts once a week; they end up together at the market, or a coffee shop, and they just talk.   
  
Then it gets more frequent (a card game here, a boxing match there) until they're seeing each other almost daily.   
  
But the emails don't stop. After months of communication, plus nearly daily in-person interaction, they're still not out of things to talk about.   
  
Okay, granted, maybe he uses each version of himself to feel out what she thinks about the other, and that gives them more to discuss. He watches how her eyes light up when he mentions CapCold42, treasures the longer and longer tangents he can get her to go on with a quick  
  
_CapCold42: Did you spend time with him today?_

He finds himself jealous (of himself!) sometimes, in either persona, especially as time passes.

Leonard has given up on pretending he isn't in love with Sara, for the most part, but if she picks up on it, she doesn't say. Gone are the days when she would greet him with a scowl; instead, she smiles at him. She stands much too close, even touching him regularly to get his attention or emphasize a point.

When he's hiding behind CapCold42, he can't touch or be touched. Online, though, Sara seems more willing to flirt. She's easier with compliments (she didn't start out on the defensive with CapCold42; it's a slightly different dynamic) and she starts signing off with “love” more and more often.

It's exhilarating and frustrating, because he can't tell how she means it.

He has plans, though. When he's sure she's forgiven him (the in-person version), he'll let her know who he is.

She'll have to forgive him.

Right?

* * *

 

CapCold42--

Okay, so I’m doing the friendly thing with my former enemy. It’s weird, but it’s weird because it’s NOT weird.

Does that make any sense? It feels like I’ve known him forever.

So for whatever reason, it made me think about you even more, and I was wondering if you wanted to try meeting again.

I think we’d click if we tried, too.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

We should meet, and we will.

But not yet. I’m in the middle of something and can’t right now.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42--

You’re not like…. in the middle of a divorce, right?

\--WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary,

No. Never been married.

CapCold42

***

CapCold42,

That’s good. I’ve been spending a lot of time with this guy, and things are…

I don’t know.

He really reminds me of you, which is probably weird to say, and maybe a little insulting since I kinda hated him at one point, but the point stands.

WhiteCanary

***

WhiteCanary

Maybe it’s not that weird a thing to say.

It’s been weeks, and my project might be ready. We could meet and find out if he reminds you of me in person.

There’s a park near Jitters. This Saturday at 11am? I’ll be at the sundial, wearing a parka.

CapCold42

***

WhiteCanary: It’s supposed to be like 80 degrees on Saturday.

CapCold42: Then I should be impossible to miss.

* * *

 

Sara can’t help but make sure he’s still coming, smiling at his quick confirmation.

_WhiteCanary: Still on for meeting at the park in an hour?_

_CapCold42: I’ll be there._

They’re finally supposed to meet, and she should be excited, and she _is,_ but she’s also worried (because he’s stood her up before) and distracted (because of Leonard Snart).

Can she really be blamed, though? Against all odds, she’d become friends with Leonard, had maybe even…

And as she’d grown closer to both men, to CapCold42 and to Leonard, she’d found herself wishing increasingly for impossible things.

And then Leonard had gone and asked today, “If we weren’t rivals, do you think we could’ve had a future, as you and me?”

Hell if it wasn’t the most appealing thing she’s heard in a very long time.

But she’s supposed to meet her friend today, after all this time, and she knows she’s more than half in love with him, despite the fact she’s never set eyes on him.

She rounds a bend in the sidewalk, and the sundial comes into sight. Her breath catches when she sees a man in a parka standing next to it. He’s facing away from her, and her heart races as she approaches him. He turns, and she swears her heart stops.

It’s Leonard.

For a brief moment, she wonders whether he’s teasing her (he has teased her plenty about her online contact, usually gently), and then she remembers that she never shared the tidbit about the parka.

CapCold42 is Leonard Snart. Both of the men she loves (yes, okay, she can admit it now) are the same man.

She finds herself unable to move. She’s smiling, she thinks, as he approaches her, but it all feels too good to be true. He’s wearing a smirk, but it fades as he steps close. She feels tears pressing at her eyes, and he must see them; he reaches out and strokes her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Canary,” he says.

A huff of laughter escapes, and then she watches him, noting how uncertain he looks, how obviously he’s waiting for her reaction (and okay, maybe she has some reason to be annoyed, only…).

“I wanted it to be you,” she breathes. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”

And then her lips are on his, and she’d only imagined they would fit together this well, and as everything else fades away, the only other thing she’s aware of is exactly how grateful she is to have him in her life.

* * *

 

CapCold42--

You jerk. I imagined so many different things happening, like maybe you wouldn’t show, or maybe we wouldn’t like each other in person, or…

Basically everything on earth except you showing up and being Leonard Snart, the man who put me out of business.

And yet, I hoped. The time we’ve spent together recently has been… I’ve been falling for you, so hard, and knowing you’re both the same person, that CapCold42 IS Leonard Snart, makes everything better.

\--WhiteCanary

***

CapCold42: Why are you emailing from the other room? Come back to bed, Sara.

WhiteCanary: Make me. Bet I could kick your ass.

CapCold42: I believe you could, but I had better activities in mind for tonight.

WhiteCanary: Be right there.


End file.
